


No more blue skies

by fuckforever



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Goodbyes, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 20:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18999841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckforever/pseuds/fuckforever
Summary: Amyas' thoughts before his death.





	No more blue skies

He was dying, he knew, and yet he wasn't able to do anything. He tried to speak with his eyes, while Elsa looked at him. She had a pained but challenging stare, and she didn't move from the cushions where she was sitting.  
That was when Amyas understood it had been her: Elsa had poisoned him. The passionate girl who nearly ruined his family had killed him.  
Yes, but why?  
Tears formed in his eyes, but Amyas wasn't that kind of man. Images of Caroline and their daughter flashed through his mind. He only managed to close his eyes, even if it caused him severe pain.  
"My darling Amyas..." sighed Elsa "Every artist needs to pay for his art."  
Amyas reopened his eyes only to look at the painting of his murderer. It was probably the best thing he had ever done. The painted girl had the same wicked smile of the real one.  
His great work was destined to remain unfinished.  
In that moment, Meredith came to announce that lunch was ready. He put all of his forces in turning himself towards his friend. He tried to make him understand.  
But Elsa was indeed a wicked and witty creature.  
She addressed him one final nostalgic look, and stood up. She walked towards him and gave him a little kiss on the cheek "If you can't be mine, you will be noone else's" she whispered.  
A flash of understanding passed through his blue eyes. Eyes that would soon be shut forever.  
Amyas knew he hadn't acted like a good person. But he was an artist, for fuck's sake. Everybody seemed to ignore that he would have done anything for his art.  
God, he was still so young, and he had all of his life in front of him. Lots of women to love and lots of paintings to create.  
All of those things were simple illusions by now.  
He crawled on his couch, repulsing the idea of dying in front of the image of the girl who had destroyed him.  
Amyas Crale stared at the sky. It was a magnificent afternoon. At least he was dying in the place where he had the best times of his life. He thought of his childhood.  
Things look so different when you're young!  
As a kid he always had imagined a bright future for himself. Oh, what a poor summer child he had been.  
Amyas Crale took one last, short breath and lost himself in the blue of the sky above him.  
A few seconds later, he was staring into nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh I just love this story by Agata Christie.  
> I'm not an english native speaker so feel free to correct me.  
> All the love x


End file.
